


Fashionably On Time

by HardNoctLife



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Canon Universe, Fashion & Couture, Fluff, Gen, Ignoct if you squint, M/M, One Shot, Surprises
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-17
Updated: 2020-01-17
Packaged: 2021-02-27 10:15:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,741
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22285447
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HardNoctLife/pseuds/HardNoctLife
Summary: One morning, Ignis notices a scribbled appointment in his planner in Noctis's handwriting that reads: "11:00 - Gallery Room." Curious, he shows up to the designated place in the Citadel that Friday with minimal knowledge of what's in store--and gets a surprise he was unprepared for.
Relationships: Noctis Lucis Caelum/Ignis Scientia
Comments: 30
Kudos: 121





	Fashionably On Time

**Author's Note:**

> This was written for part of the 2020 Ignis Fashion Week! Thank you @ignis_vogue for organizing the event!

Ignis stared at the crisp lined pages of his planner, smoothing down the paper with the edge of his hand. There, crammed between a Friday breakfast debriefing with His Majesty to discuss the result of Noctis’s final exams, and an afternoon council meeting, was an item that stood out among the advisor’s meticulous notes, all of which were written in the same scrawling black ink.

His eye was drawn to the blue, inconsistent penmanship, letters blocky and slanted at an angle. He would know that handwriting anywhere—after all, he had been the one who had attempted to correct it (and failed) on numerous occasions.

_11:00 – Gallery Room_

The real question was not _who_ had jotted down the time and place, but _why_. The advisor to the Crown Prince of Lucis scrunched his nose, eyebrows dipping in consternated confusion. He flipped back a page, then forward two, looking for any other appointments that may have made it mysteriously into his schedule, but finding none, he settled back on where he started and tapped his fingers in sequence along his desk.

Taking a deep inhale and following it with a measured exhale, Ignis fished his cellphone out of his pocket and dialed Noctis, a number he had long since memorized. The prince picked up on the third ring.

“Hey Iggy, what’s up?”

“Your Highness…” Ignis paused, choosing his words carefully. “I’ve noticed that you added an appointment for me this Friday in the Citadel’s gallery. Care to elaborate?” There was a long silence on the other end, and for a moment, Ignis feared the call might have dropped, but then Noctis’s voice came in clearly through the receiver.

“Oh, yeah, that. Don’t sweat it too much, Specs. Just be there.”

“…alright,” Ignis agreed, quizzical and reluctant. It wasn’t like Noctis to spring a surprise on him, and it wasn’t anywhere near Ignis’s birthday, so he highly doubted that he was receiving any sort of gift. This immediately made him fear the worst, and he hummed thoughtfully to himself, biting his lip. “Could you at least provide a hint?” he prodded, hoping he didn’t sound too vexed.

Thankfully, Noctis laughed, assuaging some of Ignis’s fears and shoving them to the back of his mind. “Relax, Ignis, it’s nothing bad. Just some routine Citadel stuff. You’ll see what I mean when you get there.”

Ignis sighed heavily, accepting that he would just have to wait for the secret to be revealed later in the week, and without thinking too much of it, returned his attention to the tasks at hand.

* * *

Friday morning came.

After assuring His Majesty that Prince Noctis had indeed passed all the classes necessary to graduate high school, only failing one extracurricular, a detail Ignis expertly smoothed over between comments regarding the richness of the coffee provided—of Tenebraean origin, no doubt—the advisor was free to make his way to the Citadel art gallery, a private room that could only be entered through the library.

The library was an area of the building that Ignis was intimately familiar with, as he had spent many hours there studying as a child. There were books on every subject imaginable, from Lucian history to chocobo wrangling, and everything in-between. As he walked beneath the sizeable stone archway and through the looming shelves stacked high, Ignis gave a slight wave to one of the librarians and inhaled the tell-tale scent of old books, thinking absently that he’d bottle the fragrance if he knew how. For now though, he merely observed the way the sunlight streamed through the stained-glass windows on either side of the large room, painting it an array of colors, more brilliant than any rainbow.

Moving quietly past scholars and Citadel employees alike, Ignis went straight to the back of the library, making a mental note to return when he had some free time as it had been a while since he’d enjoyed a good book. He found a thick pair of red curtains, and barely stopping, slipped past the golden rope barring them and through the partition to the other side.

The long hallway was quiet in the way a temple or church was, hushed with an air of holiness that made one want to whisper. The stained glass continued in the corridor, with large portraits of previous kings and royal family members interspersed between each windowpane. Ignis allowed his gaze to naturally navigate to the end of the hall where a small group of individuals was standing, an array of what looked to be camera equipment gathered around them in a circle. They lifted their heads to stare pointedly in his direction as he drew nearer, footsteps echoing lightly on the marbled floor.

“Mr. Scientia, sir?” one man asked. He looked young, perhaps straight out of university if not slightly older, and he was dressed entirely in black, his slacks and button-down shirt noticeably too big for him, but he had a friendly smile, and Ignis mirrored it graciously. The two women on either side of him were dressed similarly, and they inclined their heads in wordless greeting. Ignis’s eyes fell to the expensive camera that the man had strapped around his neck.

“Yes, I’m Ignis Scientia,” he proclaimed, extending his hand. The photographer beamed before shaking it.

“My name’s Ansel Avedon. This here is Anne, and this is Dorothea,” the young man began, motioning to the two women. They each waved when mentioned, and Ignis assumed they were most likely all related somehow, their facial features and pale blue eyes too similar to be a coincidence. “We’re with _Insomnia Now_ , the fashion magazine,” Marcus continued.

 _Ah, this explains the photography equipment_ , Ignis thought. He nodded to show understanding, patiently waiting for further explanation, still curious as to why Noctis felt the need for him to be there.

“We’re going to be taking some shots of the new Royalty collection by Versus that is coming out, and His Majesty was gracious enough to allow us to use the gallery for the shoot.” Ansel looked to Ignis expectantly and the advisor gave his politest smile.

“How kind. I’m sure Prince Noctis will be along any moment now. My apologies, he tends to run late,” Ignis replied. He checked his watch, noting that it was almost eleven o’ clock, and when he lifted his head, he caught sight of the siblings exchanging nervous looks.

“I…wasn’t aware His Highness would be joining us.” Ignis frowned, head tilting. “Of course, he is more than welcome,” Ansel said hurriedly, a nervous laugh following the reassurance.

Ignis nearly kicked himself when he realized what was happening, the puzzle pieces falling into place in his mind. When the picture became clear, the silence in the gallery turned oppressive, air heavy with an undercurrent of emotion that made the photographers shift awkwardly from side-to-side, avoiding Ignis’s eyes.

Plastering on his best smile, Ignis clasped his hands in front of him and resisted the urge to laugh abruptly. 

“Excuse me just one moment.”

Without waiting for permission, Ignis turned on his heel and headed back towards the library, stopping just before passing back through the curtains.

He called Noctis, foot tapping in irritation as he listened to the dial tone. The prince never answered. Anger spiking, Ignis composed a short text message.

**_Ignis [11:01 AM]_ _‘Routine Citadel stuff,’ Noct?_**

He sent it, then fought to control his expression as he returned to where the photographers were waiting anxiously, steps quick and purposeful.

“What does this photo shoot entail?” Ignis wondered, resigned.

Ansel, looking tremendously relieved, waved to the two women at his side. Immediately, they brought forward a large rolling suitcase and began to open it, pulling out a large stack of clothing and accessories. All the while, Ignis looked on with apprehension, jaw clenching.

 _Noctis Lucis Caelum, I swear to the Six_ , _once I get my hands on you…_

Ignis’s mind didn’t have time to fill in the blank before he was being pulled around a corner by Ansel, an expensive feeling fabric shoved into the advisor’s hands. The young man’s eyes were aglow with excitement now that they had hurdled over the initial awkwardness of the situation, and Ignis found it hard to be upset at the boy for merely doing his job.

“Try this one first if you would, Mr. Scientia.”

Unable to say no, Ignis began to unbutton his coeurl-print shirt, forcing another smile.

* * *

It wasn’t until later that evening that Ignis was able to track Noctis down. He wasn’t in any of his usual spots—not his apartment, nor with Prompto (Ignis had called), and he most certainly wasn’t training with Gladio. It took some running around and pointed inquiries before Ignis traced him to the Citadel’s inner garden.

Two bored looking Crownsguard saluted when Ignis entered the open space, and he acknowledged them with a brief hum before storming directly for the fountain where the prince sat along its edge. Ignis stopped short, resisting the sudden urge to push Noctis in the back, and by proxy, into the still water.

 _Unlike him, I have a higher level of maturity._ (Plus, there were people watching.)

Ignis cleared his throat, and Noctis turned, wearing a look that said he knew he might be in trouble, but that he was going to attempt to make things right with his charm and good looks.

_Not today, Highness._

“What was all that about?” Ignis demanded, deciding to cut straight to the point. Noctis was no longer a child, and he and Ignis had been close since childhood, which served as a double-edged sword for the advisor—he felt comfortable with Noctis, comfortable enough to get angry with him despite his royal status.

Noctis shrugged, taking the opportunity to stand. “What, you didn’t like it?”

Ignis threw his hands up, visibly showing his frustration. “Noctis, it’s called the _Royalty_ collection, not the _Advisor_ collection,” Ignis pointed out. “I am not entirely sure why you chose me in the first place, and why you decided not to tell me beforehand. I was completely blindsided, and frankly—” Ignis tried to find the right word for what he was feeling and ended up saying what first came to mind. “—embarrassed.”

Ignis could tell by the way Noctis fidgeted with his hands, running one through his midnight hair, that the admission surprised the prince.

“Oh.” It was quiet, mostly sheepish, and held heavy undertones of an unspoken apology. Ignis felt the deep lines of his face straightening, changing from annoyed to baffled.

“You…” Ignis pulls the deduction from thin air, his heart guiding his tongue. “…thought I’d enjoy it. Is that it?”

Noctis was quick to look away, a flush tinging his cheeks a gentle pink. “Sure, I guess. I mean, at first I was going to go, but then I thought…you’re never in the spotlight, but you do so much for everyone else. I just figured maybe you’d like to wear something other than your Crownsguard fatigues for once. You know…” Another shrug, this time unsure and vulnerable.

Ignis could feel all his remaining anger melting away, replaced with an unusual giddiness he hadn’t felt in years. In his own way, Noctis was trying to thank him. Sure, the execution was poor, but it was the thought that counted.

“I see,” Ignis murmured. He allowed his lips to curve up at the edges in an attempt to placate the prince. “In that case, you have my thanks—and when the proofs come through, you’ll be the first to see them.”

The promise brought light into Noctis’s eyes, although his smile was subdued. “Awesome.”

“Although, for any future engagements, I’d appreciate a little forewarning if I’m to be poked and prodded for someone else’s amusement,” Ignis reprimanded good-naturedly. He swatted Noctis lightly on the head, fingers brushing through the prince’s hair.

A warm breeze swept through the courtyard as Noctis’s smile widened. “You got it, Specs.”

* * *

Ignis was an early riser, so when the buzzing of multiple phone notifications woke him, he feared that some tragedy has befallen Insomnia. Rolling over frantically, he reached to grab his cell from where it rested on his nightstand, squinting at the harsh light that met his eyes. Without his glasses and a proper dosage of coffee, he was slow to read through the text messages he had received from numerous individuals, Noctis being one of them.

_Has someone died? There’s no way he’d be up this early without good cause._

He skimmed messages from acquaintances, in a rush to see what Noctis had to say. Ignis digested the prince’s words slowly.

**_Noctis [07:04 AM] Damn Iggy, I think ‘royalty’ might be your thing after all_ **

Ignis was not proud to admit that his mind went to places it shouldn’t have, but thankfully his practical side took over before he could ask any telling questions. After he reevaluated the other texts, he was able to deduce the obvious, which was quickly confirmed by a second communication Noctis sent that was slow to load: a slew of photo attachments.

It seemed that _Insomnia Now_ had released his photographs as part of an advertising campaign, which had Ignis thinking that he had somehow missed the fine print during his agreement to serve as their temporary model.

Even while he glanced over the portraits, more messages trickled into Ignis’s inbox, a constant buzz vibrating in his palm. He tried to ignore them, focused on the outfits he had forgotten the details of in the past couple of weeks. Most stunning of all, was how he felt while looking at the pictures of himself.

Perhaps it was like Noctis said—because he spent so much time serving others, he rarely took time for himself, and while he didn’t feel like he was blind to fashion, he didn’t much care to keep up with it either. As a result, he rarely strayed from his uniform of slacks and button-down shirts. Seeing himself in luxurious raiment—cravats and jeweled cufflinks, golden brocade vests, pockets watches, and even a heavy cape in one photo where the plush inner layer was adorned with dizzying florals—was exotic and foreign to him.

And somewhere, deep inside, he felt smitten with his own image for the first time in recent memory.

A notification popped up from Noctis, distracting Ignis from his revelry.

**_Noctis [07:11 AM] This one is my favorite._ **

Another attachment came through, and a high definition image of Ignis perched on one of the gallery’s stained-glass windowsills filled his phone screen. In it, Ignis was looking out into the distance, an arm lazily resting on one bent knee. The advisor remembered thinking that the pants, tight through the hips to the point where they tucked into knee high leather boots, were a bit too revealing for his liking, and that the flowing white shirt, dipping into a deep ‘v’ at his chest, reminded him of something poets might wear. The outfit was relatively plain to offset the ostentatious accessories: jeweled, fingerless gloves in-laid with gemstones, and a choker with a pendant that hung down over his sternum, a perfect replica of the royal crest. Despite Ignis’s protests, the Avedon sisters had dusted golden powder on his cheekbones and other parts of his face—to “highlight his best features.” Now, combined with the dramatic lighting and the multicolored glass in the background, he looked like a figure straight out of a painting of the Astrals’ ascension.

 **_Noctis [07:13 AM] Seems like you might have a hidden talent as a model. Prompto is gonna flip when he sees._ ** **_😉_ **

Ignis snorted at that, not bothering to entertain the notion of any type of serious modeling career. Besides, Noctis was probably only teasing. However, he did stare a second longer at the prince’s previous statement, intrigued.

_This one is my favorite._

He tried to stop it, but the thought had already formed in his head: _my favorite_. As in, _Noctis’s_ favorite. It cheered him more than he expected, but he figured he deserved some sort of reward for the ordeal he had endured. Ignis would later blame it on his interrupted sleep, but he shot back a playful retort instinctively, smirk illuminated in the blue glow from his cellphone.

**_Ignis [07:15 AM] I’d be happy to model for you any time, Your Highness._ **

Setting his phone to silent, Ignis laid his head down on the pillow and drifted back to sleep.


End file.
